


Bound By Ghosts

by CrazyScribbles



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fem!Benjen, Her name is Alysanne Stark, Slow Burn, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:00:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25010515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyScribbles/pseuds/CrazyScribbles
Summary: “I live with a ghost, my lady. Your sister, Lyanna, will always be the only woman of my heart.” Robert said, still in his drunken stupor.“At least we have one thing in common, Robert. I share the same ghost too and the same love for her.” Alysanne offered a sad smile, leaving him to his drinks.When Eddard came back from war with Lyanna in a coffin, he crisply commanded Alysanne to wed King Robert. She was bound by duty. And he was bound by her sister’s ghost.
Relationships: Robert Baratheon/Benjen Stark, Robert Baratheon/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23





	Bound By Ghosts

_**BORN TO BE DOOMED** _

The night was not calm. The cold wind was raging, similar to the thunder of her heart. The Maester Walys was dead, else he might have said this was expected in winter. Her father, Lord Rickard Stark, had often warned them to shield themselves and protect each other in winter. _Lessons…_ Alysanne had grasped all these little lessons, ever since she was a babe. She had caught the words spilled from the old Maester, her father, and Brandon, in her small palms as much as she could hold. And those small lessons were helping now, she supposed when she turned to look at the hungry little babes sleeping peacefully as they clung to their mothers' breast.

The Great Hall was already filled with men of all orders. Old, weakly, young, strong men had taken their night's stay by the Great Hall's hearth. They were not peasants. All those men belonged to the family of her father's bannermen or the family of the minor lords. Even the warm walls of Winterfell was not a comfort in this deadly winter. Hearth was a need for survival. And there were thousands who traveled all the way from the Last Hearth to Winterfell, to seek a residence for the slightest flick of fire. The young lord Vayon had said, "The castle will not fit all these men, milady. Besides, they came for Wintertown, to just have the touch of the hot spring. We cannot afford comfort for everyone from our treasury."

Alysanne couldn't counter anything in response, at that time. The hot spring gave warmth enough to melt snow on the ground, but not enough to protect lives. Many women with their babes took residence in the hearthless half-timbered houses in Wintertown, whose husbands or brothers or fathers had left for the bloody war. They had come in hope. They had come to seek some solace in House Stark. The least she'd offered was to share her chamber with the few of those women. This winter was unexpected, unpredicted, and clearly uncalculated. Else, she was sure none of these ladies who already seemed half-dead, in their tattered clothes, would have coupled with their husbands. Malnourished children in winter would die, sooner. They were all well aware of it.

"Winter teaches tough lessons." Lord Rickard Stark had said once. "Winter makes you grow. Winter makes you survive…"

Had the winter come before her family had left for the tourney in the false Spring, perhaps, she and her sister might have learned better lessons than to play with fire. Now, the price of that game was reaped on these innocent women by her hearth, whose husbands might not return. Or, if they indeed returned, they would be at best a cripple. They did no wrong to reap that punishment.

Alysanne knew who was the cause of such a massacre. She knew who made a blunder unerasable mistake that could never bring back the life of the loved ones that this war was taking. It was not this blazing cold. It was not this bloody war.

The monster was Alysanne herself. She was the one who had kindled that fire when the sad Prince had sung a song by the Great Hall of thousand hearths, in Harrenhall. She was the one who had teased her sister for finally becoming a girl to swoon over for a man. And she was the one who had found Lya, an armor to fit in, just to give wings to her sister's silly fantasies.

She hadn't known then. She hadn't known that the small flick of fire would torch the whole forest. She hadn't known many things when she had blatantly lied to Brandon, for the promise she had given to Lya before the heart tree. The war could have been stopped had she said the truth. No one would have died, if not for her existence on this earth.

_The blood of these poor, innocent lives was in her hands._

Her hands shivered at the mere thought of it. She saw Brandon in her dimmed vision. His smiling face graced with a small dimple on his right cheek, as he chased her and Lya in the Godswoods. No one could ask for a better brother than him. He loved fiercely as much as he fought fiercely. He was laughing, his boisterous tone shaking the ground. He had that charm. All women were smitten for that, from the scullery maids to high-born ladies fell for that sweet charm of his. That warm laugh was the memory she chose to cling on. She had to… She had to remember his smile. She had to register it, till that would be the only memory she could remember of him.

She whispered a prayer to her Gods, begging them to not kill anyone anymore. Pleading them to give some peace. She can't go on to live like this. It was for the promise before those Gods that she had lied. The Gods had an equal share of blood as it was on her hands. She never doubted their presence, not even when her brother and father were murdered. How could she? The Gods were true and real. The Old Gods see the world through the heart trees, as Old Nan had said. They had seen her promise. How could she break a promise given before the heart tree?

They would protect Ned in war, and Lya in Dorne, and all the others who went with Ned. The sad Prince was killed by Robert, in the Trident. She knew Lya would not be happy, but that was fine. When the Mad King would die, Lya could come back home, and things would slowly change. Winterfell could cure any ache.

* * *

She shut her eyes, letting the visions go on a repeat until she heard a loud wail of a baby. It was early morning already, but the darkness still loomed for the winter. Jumping down in a panic, she rushed to the baby who was clinging to the sleeping mother.

The baby was a girl. Probably it was hungry. Few other women woke up hearing the sound. Alysanne already picked the drooling girl in her arms, hoping to console by cradling the child, whispering an old lullaby that Old Nad had sung for her. Everyone in the chamber was fed properly. Even if it was only porridge, stew, and soup. She had made sure to fill their bellies before sleep. Not that any of them looked healthy. Few had traveled a long distance before they had arrived in Wintertown, with empty stomachs and bulging eyes. Grains and food was of crisis, now.

The peasants hadn't got the yield of their crops in the last six moons. The winter took it all, root and stem. Hungry for blood and food, many of the grown men had left with Ned, to protect their young lord's head. Now, only the weak remained. The weakest of weak were the women who were famished with none remaining in their family to feed them.

The wailing baby wouldn't stop crying and a few of the women helped take the baby from Alysanne's arms.

"Is she hungry?" Alysanne asked.

"She needs her mother, milady." An elderly woman answered, who had a toddler of her own. "Sometimes all a child needs is a mother." The woman offered a smile that quite didn't reach Alysanne's heart.

Alysanne had killed her mother before coming to the world. Her father had said that many times and he had never forgiven her for that. Alysanne hadn't either. She'd killed the mother of her three siblings. How could she forgive herself for doing it? She never knew how the Lady Lyarra looked. Lyanna had once said their mother looked just like Lya, but her sister was merely a year old child when her mother had died of complications while giving birth to Alysanne. So, Alysanne had never trusted her sister's words.

Leaning down, Alysanne jerked the shoulder of the woman, who was the mother of this little girl, whose name she hadn't remembered. There were so many women who had come and went, in the past two moons, to her chamber. A few of them had managed to traverse into her dark heart, but not all. A word or two, and food for stomach was the only concern for Alysanne at that point, for those women in need.

"Your babe is crying. Can you wake up and feed her, perhaps?" Alysanne shook the woman's body, sensing she wasn't waking up. But the woman was not even giving a twitch of her muscle. "The sun is coming up today. It is a brighter day. A better day than yesterday. We could even visit the glass garden if you wish. It is always warm there. Your little girl might like some winter roses." She said with a sad smile, as tears started rolling down. But the kind woman wouldn't even move. Alysanne kept shaking her frail body, whose thin bones were visible through that tattered clothes. "I should have given her a good dress. Does any of you know her name? I must have forgotten." Everyone surrounded Alysanne, throwing a pitiful glance at her direction. "Does anyone know her name?" She screamed again, and all shook their head. "She has a baby girl. _The child needs her mother._ "

"My lady! The cold took the woman. I will call for the guards." One of the five women walked out, but the little girl was still crying.

"Why?" Alysanne asked so longingly. "I gave her food, roof, and fire by my hearth. Why did the Gods take her? I don't even know her name. Or her husband's name. Or that little girl's name."

"Babes don't get their name until they count six name days in my mountain lands, my lady." A woman, who was wrapped in lamb wool, took Alysanne's head to her shoulder, cradling her shaking body. "You gave more than the woman could ask for. She left peacefully, knowing her child was safe in a Stark's hand. She must have been holding her last breath. The cold takes slowly but she must have felt her death before, milady." The mountain woman warmly wrapped Alysanne. "The Old Gods will take care of her child."

Alysanne couldn't believe it. "There are no Gods."

She pushed herself to feet when Martyn Cassel came with her father’s guards to take the woman. Her memories became vague, as the ugly past events unfolded before her eyes. She had asked Old Nan to feed the little girl and had taken her horse to see the burial. Ser Rodrik requested her not to leave the castle. If something befell Ned in his voyage, the Stark line would be extended through her. She had kindly refused his request. The Mad King would probably rape her and burn her instead of letting her breathe another second. Her brother raised an army against the crown, after all. Ned was the last strand of hope for the survival of House Stark.

Alysanne had to face the truth. She had to see the dead woman in her last rites. This war was because of her simple lie. It was time for her to take the blame. Had she said the truth when Brandon had asked, he wouldn't have gone to King's Landing. He would have seethed in fury, and probably left to Dorne, where the Prince had planned to take Lyanna to. But not to King's Landing. It was her lie that took him to grave. It was her foolishness that gave her father a horrible death. They were warriors. They didn't deserve that cruel death.

"We shall ask for the woman's identity in Wintertown if that will help you, my lady," Martyn said, on their way back to the castle and she nodded vaguely, not believing there could be anything done about this situation.

Martyn had been there with her, ever since she came back to Winterfell when her sire had admonished her to go home. Martyn had helped throughout this misery. He hadn't known her secrets and deceits but had helped in the administration of the castle and gave some comfort in words.

"You should feel better about the war. The bad winds have passed already. Our young lord and his friend has won in the trident. With Prince Rhaegar dead, the war is as much as done, my lady. And the cold is getting reduced by, every day. In three more moons, the winter might leave. This winter won’t last long."

"Has my brother sent any missives of his whereabouts?"

"He must be marching to King's Landing. The last I heard, Lord Robert has taken grave injury from Prince Rhaegar's sword. So, it is your brother against the Mad King now."

She hoped he would slice that ugly man's throat, slowly and painfully, rather than cutting his head in a hurry. "I need a favor from you, Martyn. Will you take a message from me to Ned?"

They both had stopped their horses, far away from the guards’ ears. "Do you want me to ride?"

"I can't ask this of anyone. And I can't send this in the missive. I have a great deal of trust in you. You have known me and Lya even as we were children. Lya… She is in the Red Mountains of Dorne. Probably alone and scared…" Alysanne cried, while her fingers instantly wiped her tears. "No one knows it, except me." Martyn gasped, not uttering a word in response. They all had assumed she was taken by Prince Rhaegar. Some had doubted that Lya went on her own with the Prince. But no one knew Alysanne was aware of her sister’s whereabouts and had lied to Brandon. "Can you take this to Ned?"

Martyn Cassel nodded, placing his hand on her shoulder, somehow sensing she had been in the agony of this hidden truth in her heart, for all this time. He probably wouldn't be able to understand her pain. The backstabbing betrayal she had done to her family was too raw for anyone to understand. A Stark would never do that to her family. But he eventually accepted to leave on the morrow. "Lady Lyanna will be fine, my lady. Trust me. Things will return to those old days when you both had laughed and ran in this castle."

_'Promise before the heart tree! Swear it by earth and water! Swear it by bronze and iron! Swear it by ice and fire! Swear that you will never say where I go or whom I am leaving with, Alys. Promise me!'_

Lya's voice hung in her head as she had mumbled an apology in air. Her sister should understand. Lya would understand. Lya might fume and throw a fit and knock Alysanne to ground for breaking the oath. But her sister would eventually understand. They were meant to share the joy and burden of this world together. They were the thickest thieves in all crimes. Alysanne could take all the curses if her sister would come back safely before the Mad King would get hold of her.

Alysanne sent her father's loyal most man to take the missive to Ned, who probably would never forgive her betrayal when he would learn of it. She didn't expect forgiveness, either. She was doomed. At least Lya would accompany her in this doom.

**Author's Note:**

> I have this problem of writing angst, especially with broken people. I had to give this a try. Hope you guys liked it.


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